100 Word Flash Fiction

Whatever It Was That Thomas Wolfe Said

When he finally returned, it was too large, too empty. Too many dark corners. He built a smaller cabin in the woods further along the river, and moved his rucksack there.

The house was not vacant for long. A storm broke the windows, letting the birds roost in the rafters. Raccoons settled in the cellar. A bear and her cubs occupied the master bedroom in the winter months.

Not very often, Henry would walk past it and imagine sheets drying on the line in the yard.